


When You're Finished Struggling, Are You Free Tonight?

by Chash



Series: Cecil Meets the Family [1]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-19
Updated: 2013-07-19
Packaged: 2017-12-20 15:42:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/889003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos wonders if it's possible to describe any citizen of Night Vale in a manner his mother would accept.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When You're Finished Struggling, Are You Free Tonight?

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers through episode 27! Title from Matthew Good Band.

The first time Carlos meets Cecil, he has trouble looking directly at him, but it's really not that hard, once you get the hang of it.

*

Calling his mother becomes a scientific investigation all on its own. At first he believes the cell phone reception really is that bad, but then he starts charting the words and phrases that get eaten by the static, and realizes there's a lot more to it than that. He definitely _can't_ tell her everything.

Not that he'd want to, but he figured things like "I saw a tee ball game at the park" would be acceptable.

It's been just under two months when she asks, "So, have you met anyone?"

She's been asking this ever since he broke up with Yoshiro right before he got his PhD, and he always sighs and says, _no, mother_ , but this time he thinks of Cecil and says, "Well--" before he can think better of it.

She pounces. "Well? Tell me about him! What's he like?"

"He's--" It's very hard to describe Cecil. Somehow, none of his features really jump out enough to latch onto one. He has--skin, and hair, and all of the limbs you'd expect a human being to have, but his mother takes all of those things for granted. He's neither tall nor short, not thin or fat, and he's just-- "He's on the radio," Carlos says.

His mother huffs. " _Mijo_ , don't tell me you haven't even met him! In love with a voice on the radio?"

"I've met him!" he protests. "And I'm not in love with him, either!"

He wonders later if it's possible to describe _anyone_ in Night Vale. He's never heard anyone do it, not the way his mother would. He's never even heard Cecil do it. All Cecil's ever said about what _he_ looks like is that he's beautiful and perfect and has hair, and that could be true of anyone, depending on your type. It could be true of Cecil. If that's what you're into.

*

The Night Vale Scorpions have their first day, and Carlos's cell phone reception goes out when he tells his sister he's going to it to see the two-headed quarter back, as he knew it would.

He isn't going to see Cecil, but Cecil is there, as he knew he would be.

"Hi," he says.

Cecil looks up, and Carlos tries to find something about him to tell his mother. _He has eyes. His face has the same general layout as a human face. It might be a human face._

"Hello," says Cecil. "Nice night for it."

_He smiles to express happiness._

"I think the squirrels in Mission Grove Park are building something," he blurts out, unsure of what to say. "You should warn people."

*

"His hair is short."

His mother sighs. "You don't have to tell me about him if you don't want to, you know."

*

"I'm not calling for personal reasons," says Carlos. "There's some mold in the senior center that--"

"Why don't we talk about it over dinner?" Cecil asks.

"I think I need to set fire to the mold."

"Well, maybe drinks after."

"Will you just warn people? I don't know if fire will work."

"Or breakfast tomorrow. Hey, there's a balloon artist in town! He uses eagle air sacs for an authentic experience."

"Goodbye, Cecil."

*

By his count, Carlos has saved Night Vale from certain destruction twenty-four times, except that he's not really sure Night Vale _can_ be destroyed. But if it can be, Carlos has prevented it.

The miniature city under the bowling alley would be twenty-five, although he thinks the Apache Tracker deserve most of the credit. But it's enough of an excuse that he calls Cecil, and when Cecil leans against him, he feels as if they've earned it.

*

He calls his mother after the date.

"I really like him," he tells her.

"And you can't even send a picture?"

He took a picture of Cecil with his phone once, and the phone melted and reformed into a live turtle, which coos when it rains and screams in a disturbingly human voice that comes from nowhere he can see when it's confronted with the void. But he can't bring himself to get rid of it.

"He doesn't like pictures."

"But you're happy?" she asks.

He looks out the window. The buzzing shadow is gone, and there are birds in the sky. At least there are until the largest one opens is beak impossibly wide and eats the others.

"Yes," he says, "I'm happy." The large bird lets out a horrible, rending noise, and then a burst of flame. "I have to call you back. Something came up."

"Say hello to your young man!"

Carlos has never gotten up the nerve to ask how old Cecil is. He is genuinely afraid of the answer. But he says, "Of course," and turns the radio up as he gets to work.


End file.
